


The Early Years: Parchment & Leather

by Minuial_Nuwing



Series: The Early Years [2]
Category: Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-02
Updated: 2005-12-02
Packaged: 2017-10-10 00:41:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/93366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minuial_Nuwing/pseuds/Minuial_Nuwing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elrohir, Elladan, and a desk. In that order.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Early Years: Parchment & Leather

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: the incredible Fimbrethiel
> 
> Warnings: Elrohir on steroids, with a side of attitude. Explicit twincest, graphically detailed - even for me.
> 
> A/N: Italics indicate mindspeak or thoughts, when not used for simple emphasis.

***********************************************************************

_Elladan chuckled and rose from his chair, extending a hand to Legolas. “Come along, 'Las, ere you find yourself bent over the table. I fear ‘Roh has been somewhat cheated, and his forbearance is no doubt stretched to its limit.”_

_The elf-knight huffed, turning to his brother in mock umbrage. “As though I would be so crass as to do such a thing. Really, tôren. You wound me.”_

_Elladan grinned, one eyebrow lifting in amusement. “I believe history will bear me out, rohir nín.”_

_“Do tell it properly, ’Dan, ” Elrohir insisted, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “It was your own fault, really, for teasing so.  And it was a desk.”_

\-- Princes Three: Any Shelter, Chapter 8

***********************************************************************

 

_~Imladris 861 III~_

Elrohir shifted uncomfortably in his chair, struggling to focus. Focus on his father’s words, the map spread before him, the discomfiting division of Arnor by Eärendur's sons - anything but his brother’s dancing eyes and knowing smirk.

“Bring the other documents, ‘Adan,” Elrond said absently, his eyes never leaving the parchment before him. “We may as well learn the full measure of their folly.”

“Aye, Ada,” Elladan replied from his place behind Elrond, giving Elrohir a mischievous grin before moving to retrieve the requested letters. Disregarding the step stool that stood near the shelf, Elladan stretched up fluidly, his back unnecessarily arched, then raised himself to the balls of his feet to reach the packet of documents.

Swallowing thickly, Elrohir found himself hypnotized by the gentle swing of his brother’s single ebony braid. Lapis lazuli beads glowed against the dark strands, and the plait’s end brushed suggestively over the swell of firm buttocks as Elladan tilted his head back, purportedly to see more clearly. The elf-knight watched, unable to tear his eyes away from the shift and play of muscle under leather, as Elladan lowered himself slowly and turned to place the rolled parchments on the broad wooden desk. As a darkened grey gaze met his own, Elrohir shook his head slightly.

_You play with fire, tôren._

One elegant eyebrow arching in amusement, Elladan stepped back a pace and lifted the hem of his tunic, splaying the fingers of one hand over the leather encased bulge that was revealed. A pink tongue appeared between slightly parted lips, and his palm slid smoothly over stretched lacings.

A taunting purr curled through Elrohir’s mind.

_You would burn me, then? Tell me what you shall do, rohir nín, after this interminable conf..._

Elrond’s voice cut through the fog of arousal, startling both tormentor and victim. “That will be enough, Elladan.”

“Pardon, Ada?” The elder twin dropped the edge of his tunic quickly, his voice a study in innocent confusion. “I do not understand.”

“I believe that you do,” Elrond countered with surprising equanimity. “Something far more fascinating than my discourse on Arnor has captured ‘Rohir’s attention.” Turning a keen glance on his eldest son, he added, “And yours seems likewise diverted.”

Elrond peered at the sunny garden beyond the open arches, then pushed back the mountain of parchment with a sigh. “It will soon be noon, and we have been at it since early morn. I think I shall have a stroll before the meal. Might I trouble you to put away those scrolls of which we have no further need?”

“Aye, of course,” Elladan answered, beginning to sort the scattered documents.

“We will continue here after the nooning,” Elrond said, his gaze flickering between his sons, the faintest hint of a smile softening his countenance. “See that you are not late.”

The door closed with a muted thud. Elrohir made no move to rise, but sat watching his brother roll each unneeded scroll before slipping it into its leather casing. Thus secured, the parchments were stowed away in the towering shelves.

Elladan had nearly completed his task when the weight of his twin’s gaze became unbearable. “It would be quicker, ‘Roh, with a bit of help,” he observed, a hint of annoyance in his tone. “I will bundle these last three if you will place them on the shelf.”

The elf-knight rose from his chair and moved to the shelves, obediently lifting the documents into their proper places.

One parchment was replaced, then another. Elladan shifted uneasily, unnerved by the continued silence. He reached out cautiously with his thoughts, trying to discern whether or not his twin was truly angry, but found himself denied access to Elrohir’s mind.

Sliding the final scroll into its case, Elladan straightened to find his back pressed against a hard chest. Caught between his brother and the edge of the desk, he was trapped firmly, his arms pinned to his sides by Elrohir’s snug embrace.

“You should be ashamed,” Elrohir murmured, his breath swirling hotly across Elladan’s skin. “’Tis not nice to tease.”

“I was but playing,” Elladan protested, shuddering as a rough, wet tongue skimmed the sensitive point of his ear.

“Playing?” Elrohir growled, nipping sharply at the tender tip. “It amuses you to tempt me, does it, tôren? With Ada sitting between us, watching me squirm?”

“I am sorry...ahhh...Eru!” Elladan’s apology ended abruptly, speech failing him as insistent hands slid under his tunic to twist and pull at his peaked nipples.

“Sorry?” Elrohir snorted, rubbing his leather-clad erection firmly against his brother’s buttocks. Abandoning the abused ear, he moved down to suckle and bite a string of exuberantly colored bruises down Elladan’s neck. “You flaunt yourself shamelessly, while I can do naught but sit there, hard and aching, and you are _sorry_?”

Twisting the blue-sparked braid around one hand, Elrohir tugged sharply, forcing his brother’s head back. “I do not accept your apology, melethron,” he whispered, claiming Elladan’s mouth in a punishing kiss.

Elladan moaned, his body responding instinctively to the tongue warring with his own, even as he struggled to escape his brother’s hold. Then, overcome by the fierce sensuality of the kiss, he relaxed back into the embrace, his hands moving of their own accord to grip Elrohir’s outer thighs, urging him closer.

Elrohir chuckled as he wrenched his mouth away, the sound not altogether pleasant to Elladan’s heightened senses. Sliding one hand purposefully over the prominent bulge in his twin’s leggings, Elrohir cupped the swollen length, pressing and rubbing. “How prettily you surrender today, tôren,” he breathed, nimble fingers working to loosen the straining laces. “Perhaps it was your intent all along, hmm?”

Shaken from his daze by the rush of cool air on his heated skin, Elladan grasped his brother’s wrist, disbelief coloring his voice. “Wait...’Roh! What are you doing? We cannot...not here. Not in the library at midday! Ada will return...”

“Ada was _here_ when you started it,” Elrohir purred, jerking his hand loose to curl his fingers around the hard shaft that emerged temptingly from Elladan’s opened leggings. “And the nooning has not yet begun. We have more than enough time.” Squeezing lightly, Elrohir groaned in approval when his brother’s hips pushed forward reflexively. “So very ready for me.”

Slipping both hands beneath the clinging leather, Elrohir eased Elladan’s breeches down slightly, his fingers ghosting over the sensitive skin where thigh met groin before returning to trace the weeping column that nudged his arm insistently. His palm now slick, Elrohir began to stroke Elladan’s arousal rhythmically, pausing often to roll and knead the tight sac below. His mouth teased one flushed ear, licking and sucking in time with his pumping fist. Pressing even more tightly against his twin, Elrohir rocked his hips, his own erection throbbing beneath snug leggings. “Can you feel how hard I am, tôren? How I want you?”

Elladan gasped, his head falling back against his brother’s shoulder. “Oh, gods...I am going to come,” he moaned, his breathing rapid and shallow. “Going to...”

“Aye, you are,” Elrohir growled, slowing his hand, drawing out both pleasure and pain. “And when you come, melethron, when you spill over my hand, do you know what I shall do?”

Elladan whimpered wordlessly, the dark, rich tone of his brother’s voice flowing around him like melted chocolate.

“Answer me, ‘Dan,” Elrohir insisted more forcefully, his hand stilling. “Do you know what I shall do?”

“Nay,” Elladan rasped, prepared to say anything, do anything, if only the caressing hand would return.

“When you find your pleasure, tôren,” Elrohir breathed, tugging the snug black leather down below his lover’s clenching buttocks. “I shall spread your seed over my shaft. And then,” he whispered hoarsely, his fist resuming its steady pumping, “then I shall take you, el nín. I shall bury myself in your body so hard and so deep that you will taste me when I spill.”

It was too much. As Elrohir finished speaking, Elladan’s body tightened forcibly, and he released in hot spurts over his brother’s waiting hand.

Granting his dazed lover but a moment, Elrohir pushed him gently but insistently down over the desk, jerking impatiently at his own lacings. His eyes fluttering closed, he quickly smeared the still-warm fluid over his aching length, a moan escaping at the touch of his own hand.

Despite his urgency, Elrohir would not risk truly injuring his twin, so with seed-slick fingers he pressed past the tiny entrance, forcing the tight muscle to stretch and relax.

Elladan hissed at the rare intrusion, twisting away instinctively. “Easy,” Elrohir crooned, catching his brother’s hips in a firm grip. “Do not fight me.”

Elladan went still as Elrohir’s slick length nudged his body, willing himself to breathe deeply and slowly as his body was breached. Expecting a single thrust followed by the slow building warmth of their fusing, Elladan howled in pain-tinged pleasure as Elrohir began immediately to move in deep, hard strokes, withdrawing almost completely before plunging back into the hot, slick passage.

“Ai..._yes_...” Elrohir groaned, his fingers digging into his brother’s hips as Elladan pushed up onto his elbows, rocking into the forceful thrusts. “So good...Valar, _yes_...”

Torn between the brutal pleasure of being owned so thoroughly and a yearning for the completeness that came only with the fusing of their soul, Elladan sobbed with relief as the familiar silvery shimmer began at last, slowly surrounding their joined bodies. “Please, rohir nín,” he panted, “I need...I need...”

With a final powerful thrust Elrohir was buried deep in his brother’s body, molding himself to Elladan’s sweat-damp back. “I need, too,” he murmured, pressing kisses to the tender skin at the back of his brother’s neck as he surrendered to the comforting warmth of their soul’s fusing. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Elladan whispered, and then the boundaries crumbled and their spirit was whole. Swept up in the shared pleasure, their tightly wound bodies rocked together, twinned moans and gasps ending in a blended howl as warm cream spilled in and over at the same instant.

********************************

Elrond stopped abruptly, his face giving away nothing as a keening wail rose from beyond the library door. After a long moment, he turned to his companion. “I believe that a stroll in the garden might aid our digestion, Counselor.”

Meeting the unreadable twilight gaze, Erestor forced back the laughter that bubbled threateningly in his chest. “It might, indeed, my lord,” he replied, taking his friend’s arm as they walked out into the brilliant sunshine.

 

*~*~*~*~*

 

Ada – Papa  
tôren – my brother  
rohir nín – my knight  
melethron – lover  
el nín – my star

 


End file.
